Not Always A Soldier
by Meggie3367
Summary: Ok, so we were given a little snippet of Sergeant Calhoun's back story in the film. Come and explore Tamora's life from even earlier, all the way through to marrying Felix. Enjoy. Rated T for possibly emotionally sensitive scenes in future, just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Near the edge of the city, in one of the suburbs, stood a little house. It didn't stand out any more than any other. It was coloured white with a grey tiled roof. The front garden was well groomed and blossoming with spring flowers around the edges. There were some wooden steps leading up to a patio and the front door of the house. And on the wooden decking of the patio was sprawled a little girl, no more than seven years old.

She was lying on her stomach, legs kicking up in the air, tongue sticking out and an almost comical frown of concentration on her face. Her blue eyes were fixed intently on the paper before her on which she was drawing. Her long blonde hair – specifically the fringe – kept falling in front of her eyes as she looked down, but, undeterred, she kept blowing it away or tucking it behind her ears before continuing to draw.

The sound of the wind rustling through the trees gently and the birds chirping their merry compositions all blended together to make relaxing music which the little girl only semi-registered, too focused on her drawing to pay full attention. Her mini trance was interrupted by the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the garden path. She looked up to see who it was, and as soon as she saw, her face split into a huge grin (which was missing a few teeth). "Daddy!"

The little girl's father was a slightly tired but kindly looking man in his mid-thirties. He wore a pair of black, rectangular spectacles on the bridge of his nose, a simple uniform of white shirt, black suit trousers, and smart black shoes. From the breast pocket of his shirt hung an ID badge from his workplace – the robotics experimentation laboratory – which displayed his details and a photograph of him. His scruffy but short cut blonde hair was thinning slightly at the back, but he paid this no mind.

"Tammy-bear!" he called in return, his voice enthusiastic and happy despite his weariness. His daughter scrambled to her feet, dropping the red crayon she had been holding, and ran towards her father, arms open joyfully. Her father bent his knees and held his arms out to her as she ran into them. He picked her up under the armpits and swung her round in the air once before pulling her close and planting a kiss on her forehead. The action caused a squeal of delight and raucous giggling from the little girl. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug before pulling away and pointing at the discarded crayons and paper on the patio.

"I drew a picture!" she announced proudly. "I drew us! Mummy, and Daddy, and me!" Her father smiled. "Is that right?" he asked. "Well, we'd better go and see this masterpiece of yours, then!" The little girl wriggled in her father's arms, wanting to be set down, and her father did so, leaving her free to run over, snatch her picture up from the ground, and bound back to show him. A childish drawing of people with off-round heads and bodies with wonky lines for arms, legs, hair and smiles met his eyes. It may not have looked like much to someone else, but to him, it could have been the most wonderful art in the world, because it was by his little girl. His little Tamora.


	2. Chapter 2

Years passed, and Tamora grew, yet her parents were left wondering where the time went. It only seemed five minutes ago that she was a little girl, and now she had blossomed into a young adult. And said young adult was currently strolling at an idle pace home from school, flanked by her two best friends, one of which was male, the other female. Her female friend was, for lack of a better word, a chatterbox. Her male friend however was more reserved and quiet, and into books, writing, drawing and the like.

Right now, her female friend – whose name was Matilda – was currently living up to her reputation for having the ability to talk the hind leg off a donkey. But that was nothing new. Her male friend, Joseph, wore a tolerant and somewhat amused smirk as he walked in silence, hands shoved into his trouser pockets. He had quickly learned just to let her talk herself out rather than trying to get a word in edgeways beforehand. He shared a knowing glance with Tamora, who grinned in return before turning her attention back to Matilda.

"…and I swear, Tammy, I think Kurt was looking your way today. I reckon he likes you, you know!" she was insisting. Kurt was just another one of the guys in their school. But frankly, Tamora didn't believe Matilda's words. She was also known for trying to play Cupid. Rolling her eyes, she waved a dismissive hand and scoffed. "Doubt it, Tilda," she said. "'Sides, I'm not really into him." Matilda looked disappointed, but there was a determined glint in her eyes that Tamora knew all too well. She wasn't going to give up. "Well who are you into then?" she retorted. Tamora just shrugged and flipped her ponytail over her shoulder.

It was then that something very unexpected distracted the attention of the three teens. In the centre of the city, where the looming tower that was the robotics experimentation laboratory where Tamora's father worked was, there was a resounding sound from a large explosion at the very top of the tower. Tamora suddenly felt the world move in slow motion around her as her heart raced. Her vision clouded a little around the edges as she stared in horror at the rubble falling from the tower, and the smoke now billowing into the sky from the explosion. She felt a sudden urge to throw up. "Daddy!" she gasped.

She doubled over a little as she retched, but she pulled back and clamped a hand over her mouth, forcing herself to breathe. "Tamora!" Joseph's voice reached her, urgent and anxious. She felt his hands on her shoulders. "Are you ok?" Tamora took a moment to stop herself retching again, before straightening up and looking into Joseph's concerned face. A glance to the side told her that Matilda was staring at the tower in horror still. "M'fine," she muttered, although she was far from so. She had merely said that out of habit.

Fumbling in her pocket for her phone, she yanked it out when her fingers closed around the smooth rectangular gadget. Gritting her teeth to prevent herself retching again, she hurriedly punched in her father's number and pressed the phone to her ear. She listened tensely as it rang. Once. Twice. Thrice. He usually answered after the third ring. It went on four more times, and the seconds felt like hours. But finally the line crackled as the phone was answered. "Daddy! Are you ok?" Tamora cried fearfully. She could hear clamouring and shouts in the background. "Tammy, get home, and barricade yourself and your mother in!" her father shouted.

Tamora couldn't process her father's words for a moment within the flood of emotion she was experiencing. Fear, then relief, then confusion…but they finally sank in. "What?" she asked, confused all the more. "What happened? I saw an explosion, and-" Her father's voice interrupted hers. "Get home!" he repeated, almost angrily now. "The robots we were working on have gone haywire – they're turning on people, so go! Now! I'll get home when I can!" And with that, the line went dead.


End file.
